


Carry On: Coda

by gryfndor_godess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester in Heaven, F/M, Gen, Jack Kline as God, Sam Winchester Deserves Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryfndor_godess/pseuds/gryfndor_godess
Summary: Sam prays for answers, because Heaven can’t take souls that have been to Hell.
Relationships: Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Carry On: Coda

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to 15x20 because Sam Winchester FUCKING DESERVES BETTER
> 
> Warning for suicide ideation

Sam prays.

To Jack, first, as he carries Dean’s body out of the barn.

_Jack, please, bring him back. Please bring him back._

To Amara, as he parks the Impala in the bunker’s garage and trembles in the driver’s seat, wondering if he has the strength to carry Dean’s body inside _again_ (he’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant history would repeat itself; if Dean woke up with black eyes and Sam had to chase him down and cure him again that would be fine, it would be _fine_ ).

 _Amara, please, bring him back. I’m sorry we lied to you. I’m sorry we tried to kill you. I know we don’t deserve it, but please, please,_ please _bring him back_.

To Chuck even, in drunk desperation, and then hates himself a little afterward.

 _Chuck_ , _if you have any powers left, please, please bring him back. We’ll be your favorites again, we’ll do anything you want, we’ll fight whatever apocalypse you throw at us, I promise._

But no one answers. Dean’s body stays cold and dead, and Sam can’t bring himself to carry him inside after all. The bunker already doesn’t feel like home anymore, but Sam can’t taint it any further. He won’t smooth out Dean’s rumpled bedsheets and blanket to lay a _corpse_ on it. He leaves Dean in the car, with Baby, and the next day, he finds a crossroads.

“We’re not supposed to make deals with Winchesters,” the demon says, before Sam has even opened his mouth.

“I don’t want a deal.”

That’s a lie, but Sam says it anyway, because Dean wouldn’t want him to make a deal, no matter that Sam is willing to pay any price.

“I need to speak to Rowena. Please ask her to come to the bunker. Please tell her it’s urgent. Tell her that Dean – tell her he’s dead and I need to see her. Please.”

Rowena comes within hours, and he sobs into her shoulder while she whispers soothing noises and strokes his hair.

“I don’t know if I can bring him back,” she says. “I can try-”

“He didn’t want to come back,” Sam interrupts, even though he was praying to Jack again not ten minutes ago. “And I’m trying to respect that, but I need to know, is he…is he with you? Is he in Hell again? We heard that souls that have been in Hell aren't allowed in Heaven. If Dean’s at peace that’s one thing, but if he’s in Hell-”

“He’s not,” Rowena says, her turn to interrupt. “Believe me, if Dean Winchester had arrived on my doorstep, I would have called you. I didn’t even know that he…I’m so sorry, Samuel. I’m so sorry.” She cups his cheeks as tears slide down her own. “He’s not with me, I promise you. I don’t know where he is, but he’s not in Hell.”

He can burn Dean’s body now, but he gives himself one more day to pretend he’ll find an excuse not to. He leafs listlessly through their lore on Purgatory, but there is no king or queen to assure him that Dean’s not there, and even if there were, Sam has no way to contact them. Besides, every time they ended up in Purgatory, they had their bodies; it’s not where human _spirits_ go. If Dean’s not in Hell, then he’s in Heaven or The Empty, and either way, he shouldn’t be suffering. The Empty as an entity was terrifying, but as a _place_ it was just…eternal slumber; no agency and no consciousness but also, presumably, no pain (he has to remind himself of that whenever he can’t keep from thinking of Cas).

He gives Dean his hunter’s funeral on the third day, when the smell in the Impala is horrific enough to risk insult to Dean’s memory. He says goodbye to his brother for the last time, and he cries with Miracle, and when the call comes from Texas that someone needs saving, he does what Dean would have wanted him to.

He carries on.

But he still prays.

 _Please, Jack_. _Please bring him back. Or if you can’t or won’t, please just let me know he’s all right. I know he hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry he couldn’t forgive you, I’m sorry he made you feel like you weren’t family_ , _but I loved you, and I’m begging you, please let me know he’s all right, please, please, please-_

He ganks the werewolf in Austin and saves the woman it tries to make a last meal out of. He hunts a wendigo in Minnesota and saves a bunch of high school friends on a camping trip. In Oklahoma, he saves a single mother and her daughter from the ghost of her abusive husband. He hunts, and he saves, and he counts the victories and wonders when enough will be enough, if there’s a magic number when he’ll be able to _stop_ while still feeling like he’s kept his promise to Dean.

And not just stop hunting. Stop… _everything_.

He ignores Jody’s calls, and Donna’s, and Charlie’s. He doesn’t reply to Eileen’s texts, except to say sorry, he’s too far away to meet up. He doesn’t want to talk about Dean. He doesn’t want to hear well-meant but useless words of comfort. And it wouldn’t be fair to pull them into his orbit now, when he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll _have_ an orbit. He’ll call Jody if and when it becomes clear that Miracle needs a new home.

When he hits that magic number.

 _Please, Jack. It isn’t fair. I lost you, and I lost Cas, and I lost Dean, and it_ isn’t fair _. I need something. Anything._ Please _._

Eighty-seven days after Dean’s death, his prayer is finally answered.

“Hello, Sam.”

“J-Jack.” Tears start squeezing their way out of Sam’s eyes before he can even form the syllable. “You’re here. Are you real?”

He knows he’s dreaming. The last thing he remembers is staring at the dark motel ceiling, wishing he could fall asleep as easily as Miracle, and now he’s standing outside on a bridge over a sparkling river, and it’s a gloriously bright, red-leafed fall day. The question is whether this is _just_ a dream or if it’s actually, _finally_ something more.

“I’m real,” Jack says, with a small smile that’s painfully familiar. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’ve been busy. We’re rebuilding Heaven, and that’s taking a lot of time, and I’ve been traveling all over the world to learn about everything Chuck created.” He hesitates, and something a lot like guilt flashes across his still-boyish features. “And I didn’t…I didn’t think at first that I should come. I thought I needed a clean break. But you’re right, that wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Sam can’t say anything, doesn’t know _what_ to say (it’s not _okay_ , and Jack isn’t really his son anymore, so he doesn’t need to pretend it is), so he just nods a bit and sniffles.

“You deserve an answer,” Jack continues. “Sam, Dean is in Heaven. He’s all right. He’s _more_ than all right. You don’t need to worry about him. He is safe, and whole, and he will never suffer again.”

Sam’s breath leaves him in a whoosh. He’s so dizzy with relief that for a moment, he thinks he might black out.

“He’s okay?” he finally gasps. “But you can’t – can’t you bring him back?”

Jack hesitates again, and Sam feels more tears prick his eyes.

“I don’t think I should,” he says, very carefully. “I don’t think I should play favorites or change the course of nature. I don’t want to be like my grandfather.”

Sam has to tamp down a spark of fury, an instinctive, _“after everything I did for you”_ guilt-trip that will serve no one and just hurt them both. He’s still figuring out what to say instead, how to plea or bargain or persuade, when Jack says,

“You should know that Heaven is all better now; I fixed it. _We_ fixed it; Cas helped me. It’s not like it was before, when everyone was isolated and just relived their memories. Everyone’s together now. Heaven is _whole_. Dean isn’t alone. He’s with your parents, and all your friends are there, too. Your Bobby. Your Charlie. Someone named Rufus. A mother and daughter named Ellen and Jo. Ash and Kevin. Your brother Adam. And there are others. So many others whose lives you touched.”

Sam stares for a moment, speechless, and then hears himself say, “Jess?”

Jack smiles. “Yes. I’ve met her. You’ll see her again someday. You’ll see all of them.”

 _Someday_.

Sam cries harder, barely able to choke out his next words. “Why can’t I go now? If it’s so perfect, if Dean’s there, why can’t I be there, too?”

Jack’s expression turns very grave. “You can, if that’s what you choose,” he says slowly. “You have free will, Sam, just like Dean did. If you make that decision, I’m not going to stop you. But I don’t think…I don’t think that’s what Dean wanted for you. Or your parents or anyone else who loved you. They wanted you to _live_. But…” He grimaces. “They also wouldn’t want you to be miserable. It’s up to you, Sam. Whatever you decide, Heaven will be there in the end. Dean will be there.”

 _It’s not fair_ , Sam thinks again, and knows he’ll be thinking that for as long as he does live.

“Cas is there, too?” he asks, stalling. “I thought he was in The Empty. You saved him?”

He tries not to sound accusatory.

Jack brightens. “Yes. I got him out of The Empty. It wasn’t happy, but I’m more powerful than It is now. Cas was the one who helped me figure out how to fix Heaven. I’m sorry he hasn’t come. He’s been helping me rebuild, and there are a _lot_ of walls to knock down and people to reunite.”

“ _Will_ he come?” Sam asks point-blank. “It’s not changing the course of nature if he just…visits. I never got to say goodbye.”

He can afford this much of a guilt trip at least.

Jack considers. “I think…I think that would be okay. I’m trying to reign in all the angels and get them back in Heaven, close it off the way it used to be so they can’t meddle. But I think Cas could come see you. At least once.”

“Okay,” Sam says, and swallows back protests. “Okay.”

There’s a short silence, and Sam feels a burst of panic, like invisible walls are closing in on him. This can’t be it, Jack can’t just disappear now, and definitely not until he knows for sure-

“How do I know it’s really you?” he blurts. “That this is all true? How do I know you’re not…” He swallows again, composing himself. “Years ago, before I knew who Chuck really was, I thought God was sending me visions, speaking to me with a persona I would trust. But it was actually Lucifer messing with me. How do I know…”

Something in Jack’s face cracks, and for the first time he looks like _Sam’s_ again, not like a foreign, unknowable god but like the child they did their best to raise.

“Because, Sam, I love you.”

He steps forward, and before Sam knows what’s happening, Jack is hugging him. Sam can’t breathe for a second, not because Jack’s grip is too tight but because it’s the first time someone has touched him since Rowena’s embrace three months ago; he thinks that when Jack lets go, he might just collapse. As the hug lingers, a warmth kindles deep inside his chest, one that doesn’t come from him; it stretches in every direction, down to his toes, out through his fingers, and all the way up to his hairline. It’s the warmth of a beautiful sunny day, of a crackling fire in the hearth and a blanket to nestle under; of a freshly baked pie.

It’s the warmth of love.

And he knows, without a shred of doubt, that this really is Jack, that everything he has said is true.

He doesn’t collapse when Jack finally steps back. He wipes away more tears and says, “Dean is really happy? He’s at peace?”

Jack hesitates, and Sam’s heartbeat stutters.

“He will be,” he says finally. “He’s just waiting for you. But he’s happy enough, Sam; I promise. He’s…”

His eyes flash gold, and his lips curve up. “Right now he’s driving his car and listening to classic rock. It’s an open road. It’s a beautiful day. Like this one.” He gestures, and Sam thinks his heart might burst.

“You don’t need to worry about him,” Jack says softly. “Times passes differently in heaven than it does here. Dean will not need to wait long for you. You can live your life, if you want, and you will see him again someday; I promise.”

He tilts his head and holds up his hand, and Sam knows this is the end.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

Sam jolts awake. It’s still dark, not even 3:00 AM yet. While Miracle snores in peaceful oblivion at the end of the bed, he stares up at the ceiling again, pondering. He thinks about putting food out for Miracle, texting Jody the address, and sticking Dean’s .45 in his mouth. He thinks about it for a long time, until it’s proper morning and Miracle snuffles himself awake and needs to go out.

He thinks about it while he interviews a witness and while he researches the history of the town he’s trying to save this time. He thinks about it while he drives Dean’s car and buys dinner for one.

Days pass, the case ends, and Sam keeps thinking about it.

But he also, finally, calls Jody back, and Donna, and Charlie. He texts Eileen and arranges to meet up. When they finally reunite, she holds him and he cries for what feels like hours, until he’s all worn out and all he can do is close his eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of her shampoo. She joins him on his next hunt, and they save a young couple from a vengeful witch in Maryland. Then it’s on to Delaware to fight a poltergeist, and then to Jersey to deal with a shapeshifter, until it isn’t a question anymore as to whether she’ll come with him. He can’t promise her forever, but he promises her he won’t disappear without a goodbye.

He still prays to Jack, sometimes just to say hello and sometimes to ask him to tell Dean how much he loves and misses him, how much he’s trying. He prays to Cas to remind him to visit.

He doesn’t know how long he can carry on, how long he can go through the motions of living, but he’ll try, for Dean. For Cas, and Bobby, and his mom and dad; for Rufus, and the Harvelles, and Kevin, and Charlie, and everyone else they lost along the way. And if tries hard enough, long enough, maybe someday the motions won’t just feel like motions anymore. Maybe, maybe not. But he won’t know if he doesn’t try. ~~~~

He’ll keep trying, for Dean.

One day at a time.

_Fin._


End file.
